


To the beat of our noisy hearts

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys in Skirts, Butt Plugs, M/M, POV David Rose, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Thirsty Bottom Patrick Brewer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: He knows exactly what he’s going to wear today. Because Patrick loves him in a skirt; he seems to have a bizarre but flattering thing for David's shins, which makes no sense. They’reshins. There’s nothing sexy about shins in general, let alone David’s shins, but every time Patrick gets a glimpse of them he starts practically panting.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 41
Kudos: 265





	To the beat of our noisy hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DelilahMcMuffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahMcMuffin/gifts).



> I ~~bribed~~ promised Delilah that if she worked on her WIP, I'd reward her with porn. She came through, so now I'm... coming... through.
> 
> Unedited, barely reread. It's quick and it's dirty (the writing and the smut).
> 
> Title is from Matt Nathanson.

The blaring of his alarm unceremoniously jolts David awake, and he reaches blindly towards the bedside table to shut it off. When he stretches his arm out to Patrick’s side of the bed it’s empty and cold, and it’s only then that he remembers _why_ his alarm was the one going off in the first place.

David had been put out when Patrick had said he wanted to go to a _Redefining Macros_ seminar in Thornbridge the Monday before the wedding. As far as David is concerned, the week before the wedding should be reserved solely for wedding-related activities and/or breakdowns, and the kind of cuddly grounding sex they always have whenever one of them is stressed or anxious. But Patrick had been excited about it, genuinely excited, and so David had set an alarm for the crack of dawn (okay, 8am… which is _basically_ the crack of dawn) and promised to have a glass of wine waiting for him when he got home.

Because David has grown as a person. He’s in a mature, stable relationship; he’s almost _married_. He’s moved past sulking and passive aggression and into the way steady, business-and-almost-home-owning people deal with their partner spending a long day out of town even though you’ll miss them.

By being extremely fucking hot and teasing Patrick to distraction with it. Obviously.

He knows exactly what he’s going to wear today. Because Patrick loves him in a skirt; he seems to have a bizarre but flattering thing for David's shins, which makes no sense. They’re _shins_. There’s nothing sexy about shins in general, let alone David’s shins, but every time Patrick gets a glimpse of them he starts practically panting.

He hasn’t seen David’s wedding outfit. David chose the Thom Browne specifically knowing it would make Patrick lose his whole goddamn mind.

Tonight… tonight can be a sneak peek. A preview. Not with the real thing, obviously — God no. But David has plenty of skirts for Patrick to practice their wedding night with. Even if he won’t know it’s a rehearsal.

* * *

He locks the front door at lunchtime and takes his phone into the back room. The couch that’s in here saw so much action while Patrick was still living with Ray, and while it’s not as necessary since Patrick moved into his apartment it’s not completely neglected either. He runs his hands through his hair a few times to make it look tugged on before he sets his phone on the shelf, setting the timer on the camera before rushing back to the couch. He tugs the hemline of the skirt up as he sits, reaching underneath it to cup his cock through his underwear. He stares into the camera lens, doing his best not to feel ridiculously self-conscious as the flash goes off.

When he picks up the phone to look at the burst of pictures, he… doesn’t hate them. He scrolls through quickly, picks the one where he thinks he looks most like he needs to be fucked, and sends it to Patrick along with a quick message: _If only my fiancé was here to help me with this._ He stands up, smoothing the skirt down over his now half-hard cock, and glances at the time: 12:47pm. Patrick’s conference finishes at 5:30, and he was planning to stop for dinner on the way home, so David isn’t expecting to see him until close to 9. That’s plenty of time to go back to Patrick’s apartment, have something to eat, and then tease himself until Patrick comes home and hopefully fucks his brains out.

He eats his lunch, waiting for a reply from Patrick that doesn’t come. When he goes back into the message chain just before opening the store again he can see Patrick read the message just a couple of minutes after he sent it but he hasn’t replied, which is… odd.

It’s fine, David tells himself. Patrick is probably in the middle of a seminar or whatever. He’ll reply when he has time.

* * *

By 4:55pm, David is worried.

He assumes Patrick _must_ have had a break at some point, but there’s still been no response to his photo. He’s trying to assure himself that it’s probably just that he can’t find privacy, that anything he wants to say to David is too hot to even type out in public, but he can’t quite help the tiny frisson of nervousness running through his stomach that maybe Patrick… didn’t like it. He’s the one who set the ‘no sex during business hours’ rule, after all, and while it’s not like David actually _did_ anything, maybe he still thinks it’s crossing a line.

Maybe this was a stupid idea. They’ll be married in less than a week, after all; they should be able to spend literally one day apart.

Just as he’s thinking about locking the door the bell above the door chimes; David is facing away, straightening the stock on one of the shelves, and the comment about closing time dies on his lips when he sees Patrick standing in the doorway, his eyes locked on David with an unreadable expression.

“What are you doing back so early?”

Patrick steps fully into the room before turning halfway back to the door, flicking the lock sharply and flipping the sign to closed. Then he turns back around, walking towards David with determination and gripping his arms tightly as he leans in to capture David’s lips in a bruising kiss.

“Apparently my fiancé needed me,” he says when he pulls away, his eyes travelling down the length of David’s body before coming to rest, somewhat predictably, below his hemline. “So I came to help.”

“Oh.” So the radio silence wasn’t an anger thing; it was a sex thing. David’s nerves dissipate immediately, washed away by the kind of thrumming heat that look of pure want on Patrick’s face always gives him. “You left your seminar and drove straight here?”

“Not quite,” Patrick says with a twitch of his lips, but he doesn’t elaborate. Instead he pushes at David, causing him to stumble backwards towards the back room but he doesn’t turn around, trusting Patrick to lead him where he needs to go.

As soon as they’re in the back and out of sight of the street-facing windows Patrick shoves him into the wall, pressing their bodies together as he kisses him hungrily. “God, David,” he pants against his lips, grinding their hips together so that David can feel him, hard even beneath the stiff denim of his jeans. “That picture was so fucking hot.” He drops to his knees, reaching up under David’s skirt without moving away to stroke lightly over his cock, making him drop his head back and groan. “There was no way I could stay there, surrounded by all those strangers, after seeing that.”

“Yeah?” David pants as he presses forward into Patrick’s touch; it’s too light, but he chases the contact anyway. “You gonna fuck me in this skirt?”

“Nope,” Patrick says casually, and David can’t help the tiny lurch of disappointment. He _knows_ it isn’t fair, he knows that whatever they do is going to be ridiculously good — sex with Patrick always is, but anything that makes him leave an _Excel seminar_ early is bound to be hot — but still, he can’t deny that he did have a certain vision for how the evening was going to go and the skirt was very much involved.

But then Patrick continues: “I want _you_ to fuck _me_ in this skirt,” and David’s vision whites out at the edges. He gasps as Patrick slides his hands up further, to the waistband of David’s underwear. He pulls them down slowly, as far as he can before David’s shoes get in the way and then he stops to ease those off first before pulling his underwear the rest of the way off.

“All I could think of, all the long drive home,” Patrick says breathlessly, looking up at him, his hands resting on the outside of David’s knees, “was you bending me over this couch and feeling this skirt resting on my back while you fuck into me.” He sits back and licks his lips, blinking up at David, all wide-eyed faux innocence that should _not_ be as much of a fucking turn on as it is. “But only if you’d like that, of course.”

David blinks, trying to get the tiniest bit of blood back to his brain before responding. “Stand up and take your fucking clothes off,” he chokes out after a moment, trying to sound demanding but, he suspects, landing far closer to needy. Patrick smirks but stands, unbuttoning his shirt quickly while David moves to the couch, ducking down to grab the box stored underneath it. He opens it quickly, pulling out a bottle of lube which he tosses on the couch before peeling his sweater over his head and setting it carefully on the shelf, out of the way. When he turns back around Patrick is down to his underwear; David’s eye is drawn to the wet spot on the front of his boxer briefs and he licks his lips, and Patrick hesitates like he’s considering saying something before instead pulling them down and kicking them away. He walks around to the back of the couch, standing directly in front of David before bending over it, and David’s brain goes completely offline.

Patrick is wearing a plug.

“Um,” he stutters. “You— um?”

Patrick huffs a laugh. “Like I said, I didn’t quite come straight here.”

“Fuck.” The mental image of Patrick, rushing home from his seminar to finger himself open and plug himself up before coming down to the store, is— well. David needs to get inside him, right the fuck now. He leans over the couch to grab the lube, snaking a hand around the back of Patrick’s neck and kissing him messily before he stands back up. He pours some lube into his hand and strokes it gently over his cock, trembling with the effort it takes not to just tighten his fist and get himself off, before using his unlubed hand to grip the plug and pull it carefully out. He sets it down on the shelf on its base before sliding two slicked fingers into Patrick’s hole, making him cry out.

“David,” he pants, “need you to fuck me, come on, please.”

“Seeing as you asked so politely.” He takes his clean hand and grips the hem of his skirt, raising it up and dropping it down on Patrick’s spine as he steps in closer behind him, lining the head of his cock up with Patrick’s ass but not pressing in yet. “Is this what you wanted? Want to feel my skirt while I fuck you?”

“Please,” Patrick chokes out, and David slides inside him in one smooth stroke.

He’s not going to last. He knows that immediately, with the way Patrick sighs with contentment as he pushes in and whines, actually _whines_ when he pulls back again; all he can do is try to hold on as long as he can. He grips Patrick’s hips through the skirt with both hands, no longer caring whether he makes a mess of the clothing as he slams back in as hard as he can and Patrick wails so loudly David worries that he might be audible from outside. But then Patrick starts babbling, “Fuck me, God, fuck me, please, I need it so bad, fuck me,” and David can’t think of anything except the sound of Patrick begging, of the way he braces his arms on the couch so he can push back hard into David on every thrust.

When David comes, it’s with a loud groan; he slumps forward, peppering kisses onto every part of Patrick’s back he can reach as she shudders through it. As soon as he starts to soften he pulls out and Patrick whimpers, but David runs a calming hand down the length of his spine.

“It’s okay, honey, I’ve got you,” he says soothingly, picking up the plug from the shelf. It slides into Patrick easily and then David spins him around, barely giving him a chance to balance before dropping to his knees. Patrick is so hard it looks almost painful and David decides to skip teasing him for right now, instead wrapping his lips around the head, collecting all the precome pooling there before he sinks down smoothly.

“David, fuck.” He can feel Patrick’s fingers tangling in his hair and he pulls back almost all the way, letting his tongue drag up the underside of Patrick’s cock before bringing a hand up to cover one of Patrick’s. It’s a signal they’re both very accustomed to and Patrick lets out a little sigh before he runs with it, tightening his hands and thrusting into David’s waiting mouth. He fucks in and out probably a dozen times at most before he’s choking out a warning, letting go of David’s hair to give him an out he never wants to take, and David moans, swallowing it down greedily as Patrick explodes all over his tongue.

As soon as he’s free of David’s mouth Patrick sinks to the floor, leaning awkwardly to one side so he doesn’t sit directly on the plug. He looks dazed, but he reaches out to stroke David’s thigh through the skirt with a soft smile on his face.

“You look so fucking hot in this, David,” he groans quietly, and David grins to himself.

“Glad you think so.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


End file.
